


[Eustass Kid x Reader] Dark Light

by Bamse



Category: One Piece
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bamse/pseuds/Bamse
Summary: Your world is surrounded by walls, in a city upon a mountain so high you can't see the ground from even half way down. At least, that's what the rumours state. It's not so bad. Yeah, half the population lives on the streets, everyone's gotten so used to the pollution and filth it doesn't affect anyone anymore, and gangs roam the city freely, but it's not awful. Well, at least it was bearable. Until you got knocked out for a day and a half and woke up in an empty warehouse. From there, it was almost good.





	1. entry 1

It’s been a tiring day, and you traipse towards your room. Inside, you close the door and let your eyes wander. On your desk lay a notebook with all sorts of gears and metal scraps on the cover, and inside a hundred entrees of your adventures and stories. The light shines on both it and the frame that rests against the wall. 

You pull out the chair and sit, flipping open the notebook and through the worn paper. A certain page catches your attention. The first sketch you ever made of Eustass Kid and his closest friends. You toss a couple pages back to the beginning of the entry.

A hundred memories trickle in, a soft smile forming on your face. You begin reading of your adventures from what seems like a lifetime ago.

 

_30 December XX03_

_Dear [Y/N],_

_You’ve been quite stupid, lately. You ended up joining a gang that were enemies of Shanks. Remember him? Well, I guess first, I should’ve started from the beginning. Well, let’s do that now, then…_

It started a few days ago. You woke up at 04.30 sharp, your body used to the exact time frames. Wide awake already, you go about a quick morning routine of a minute and a half shower, tossing on normal, baggy attire to hide gadgets, and slinging your bag over your shoulder before heading out. Normal so far. 

Being on the fourth floor of the apartment complex, you had to climb down from the window. It wasn’t difficult, since there were all types of gadgets or add-ons from everyone else to latch onto. 

From there, you started for work. A minor setback arose, though. A group of guys, from the Heart Gang, jumped you. Or rather, tried to. They were new, since their gang mark on their jackets were dark yellow and barely visible. Their attacks were sloppy, and their movements were slow. 

You didn’t even need gadgets to take them out. All you needed was a few slow dodges and punches and they were out. 

But still, a minor setback still a setback, you were late. Only by 3 minutes, but plenty to get you fired. But you’ve worked there for years and never were you late before, so you were let off the hook that one time.

It was when you missed an entire shift that you were fired. 

It was night when you were heading towards your apartment. Another group from the Heart Gang attacked, successfully claiming revenge. It was barely a fight, since they performed their little attack from the shadows. You should’ve been able to react, but you’re rusty.

You were out, and when you next woke up, it was midday. Streams of dirty sun shone from the torn roof. You sat, not bound by any ropes or anything of the sort. Your clothes were dirtier and pain was present throughout your body, but nothing too extreme. Around you, all over the floor and walls, Trafalgar’s mark was sprayed in yellow and black. 

Probably a rival gang’s warehouse, you guessed. No reason to vandalize so much in their own. Near the door, a single strapped black backpack. You arose and snatched it when a jolt of panic had surged through you as you began to think more. You missed your morning shift.

Ignoring the stinging in your body that told you to stop, you ran. Faster than you ever had before. You leaped over the mountains of rubble and broken gadgets, over the fallen walls, and in no time you were at the factory.

You burst in. A head or two turned before returning its focus to the job. 

Your boss approached you, his eyes tired as ever. “Ah, Miss [Y/N]. So you’ve finally decided to show up?”

“I, sir, I had been knocked out, and—” you tried to explain. You tried to find the right words without seeming weak.

“Miss [Y/N], there are plenty of people here that will work without missing a day. You’re fired.”

A rage struck your chest, but you held it in. “Sir, if I may—”

“You’re fired. Yesterday morning was one thing, but this? You’re fired.” You began to talk again, but he sighed. “I don’t wanna do this. But I’m gonna anyway. You’re fired.”

“Sir, it’s Christmas, surely…”

“Do you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yessir, I do. I hear loud and clear, and I don’t think you mean what you’re saying. You’re saying it, but you aren’t really _saying_ it, you don’t really mean it, you know?”

“I know fully well. It seems you don’t get it. So how about we make a deal?” You lit up at that. “If you get it through your thick skull, then you can get out!”

“I… I understand. Getting out, now.” 

You ended up back at your apartment, a place you could barely afford before and surely couldn’t after being fired. Maybe it was because it was Christmas, and you didn’t want to be alone on Christmas. Or maybe it was because everything seemed to be crashing to Hell. No matter the reason, you were miserable. 

And miserable feelings only brought miserable thoughts. Why were you trapped in such a disgusting, filthy place? A place where stray animals that looked like skin draped over bones were often more successful than the people. A place where it always smelled of smoke, oil, urine, or a combination of the three. A place where the government ruling over it doesn’t do shit about the gangs who slaughter for fun, but apartment payments are sure to be taken care of?

You were throwing a pity party, and you knew it. You knew he’d be ashamed if he saw you now, but you weren’t sure what else to do. Go find another job? Sure, but you’d be waiting months, maybe even years before a spot opened up for you. Go back to before you had to rely on factory jobs? That’d be ideal, but you’re not as good as you were. 

And the pity party was peaceful, well, as peaceful as a pity party can be, really. It was unpleasant, but it would pass and was bearable.

What wasn’t bearable? A creepy masked person with overgrown, filthy hair breaking into your apartment. He climbed through the window, as if it was a normal occurrence, and a small click of a button revealed curved blades probably a metre long. 

Half of your body said to fight, begging to defend yourself. But the other half told you to run. You were stripped of your gadgets, you haven’t fought a real opponent in years, and he definitely looked like a real opponent.

“I won’t have to hurt you if you give us our bag back.”

You blinked. “Bag?”

“The one on your shoulder. With our mark on it.”

“What do you mean? This is my bag.” But just in case, you took it off and inspected it for a second. On the front had a bright red mark of the Kid Gang. “Okay, I stand corrected. But where’s my bag, then? Did those stupid Trafalgar goons take it?” Your brain was telling you to shut up, but if you couldn’t get your gadgets, you at least were going to need some metals.

“I don’t need to answer you. Give it.”

“I…” He had a point, but you were still hesitant. Maybe you could snatch some materials, or—

A gruff voice interrupted whatever scheme you planned on taking out. 

“Oi, Killer. The hell’s taking so long?” A man of tall, muscular stature, dark red hair, and a bright red mark of Kid’s gang tattooed on his right arm slipped through the window, surprisingly easily.

“Nothing, boss.”

“Clearly it’s something,” he retorted, and the masked man shrugged. 

“Boss, I think we should take her in. She could be a useful asset.”

“Pfft, this little thing? Trafalgar’s low ranking men took her out.”

“From what we’ve gathered, captain, she was taken by surprise when she was tired and expecting nothing,” said Killer. “Plus, I think I know who she is.”

“And that is?” said the redhead, yawning.

You began to back away, centimeter by centimeter.

“Do you remember—” he pointed his blade at you, the tip but a few centimeters away from your neck, “—Don’t move. Do you remember Red-Hair’s little assassin? This, I believe, is her.”

That seemed to pique Kid’s interest. “That so?” He took a few steps towards you. “In that case, let’s take her.”

Killer nodded. “Yessir.” He retracted his blades, and in a split second of panic, you made such a foolish mistake. You ran.


	2. an interlude between pages

“(Y/N)!” Killer calls. “I know you’re tired after today, but dinner’s ready if you want.”

“It’s (Favourite Food)!” Heat adds.

“Thanks. I’ll be down in a second.”

You keep mind of the spot you finish in and head down from the attic. “Hey,” you greet. “How’s everyone doing?”

“Fine, I guess,” says Wire, glancing at Killer and Heat. “We were uh… more worried about you.”

You sit at the table and Killer serves you the dish before taking a seat himself.

“Thanks, you guys. But really, I’m fine. It’s been so long, It’s less bad, now. Where’s Gear?”

“Still at Trafalgar’s,” Killer says. “Learning about medicine and stuff. Nothing like his old man,” he chuckles.

You nod, taking a few bites of food. “Did I ever mention how I kept a journal of everything that happened?”

“A journal?” Heat says. “No, you haven’t.”

“Yeah. Master used to test me on memory. At the beginning of every training session, since it was during night, he’d make me tell him everything that happened during the day and at what times, the exact things people said, the exact places and distances of everything. I kept it to keep my memory sharp.”

“And?” Wire says, nudging you on.

“I started reading the entry where I met you guys. I even drew you guys at the very end. It was before Wire got his scars, Heat didn’t even have blue hair at the time, and Killer, you were real skinny,” you say.

“I could still kick your ass,” he huffs.

You smile. “Barely.”

“Go get it,” Killer says. You hum, questioning. “Go get your journal, read it to us. From wherever you left off.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Go on.”

You sigh. “Fine.” You head up to the attic, ears catching on to quiet conversation below.

“She smiled.” Heat.

“It’s getting better. She’s accepted it, more,” Killer says. “It’s only natural.”

“Right.”

“Think she’ll ever completely move on?” Wire asks.

“I hope not. I haven’t, even. I’d rather not be behind a pipsqueak.”

There’s slight laughter as you begin back down with your journal.

“Hey, (Y/N). What part were you at?”

“I left off when Kid and Killer broke into my apartment.”

Killer snorts. “I remember that. That was really stupid.”

“Thanks. Now shut up or I’m not reading it.”


End file.
